


the way the guillotine wears gravity

by shrimpheavnnow



Series: there's no hand on the reign [2]
Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Developing Relationship, Hopeful Ending, M/M, Mild Angst, omi when he sees feelings: i pretend i do not see it
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-28
Updated: 2020-11-28
Packaged: 2021-03-09 20:55:08
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,583
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27752653
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/shrimpheavnnow/pseuds/shrimpheavnnow
Summary: A romantic relationship is out of the question. Evenif, for some unknowable reason, he were romantically interested in Miya, it isn't something Kiyoomi wants — too much of a hassle. Even having just sex is difficult, since his partners are usually unused to his fastidiousness, his idiosyncrasies.But.Miya already knows about his habits, accommodates them, and they live fairly close to each other. He's obviously interested, too.What would more look like?
Relationships: Miya Atsumu/Sakusa Kiyoomi
Series: there's no hand on the reign [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2030074
Comments: 28
Kudos: 263
Collections: my babies





	the way the guillotine wears gravity

**Author's Note:**

> HELLO ! i did not intend to write this, but then i was like "....what if i _did_ tho???" 
> 
> this is a retelling of [a mighty ocean or a gentle kiss](https://archiveofourown.org/works/27697502) from omi's pov bc a few people were like "OMI how COULD you" n guys . he's tryin. he's just Bad At It. so i would recommend reading that first to know what's going on bc the two are connected but you could probably?? read this on its own?? idk 
> 
> a HUGE HUGE HUGE thanks to the fantastic [ em ](https://archiveofourown.org/users/emso) for beta-ing thank youuuuuu <333 
> 
> title comes from "prism" by andrea gibson (a FANTASTIC poet). the entire line goes: 
> 
> _I suppose we wear our traumas the way the guillotine wears gravity_  
>  _Our lovers’ necks are so soft._

It starts with a lingering glance. 

Kiyoomi knows that Miya is looking at him — again. An unexpected, but not wholly unwelcome development in the past few weeks. Assuming it was a passing fancy, Kiyoomi had chosen to ignore it, but subtlety has never been one of Miya's strong suits; the way he continually glances at Kiyoomi is impossible to ignore. 

Such as right now. He can feel Miya's eyes on him, and he decides to look back. Miya smirks, his default setting, so Kiyoomi cocks an eyebrow, tilts his head a little; Miya seems to flush before looking away.

A confrontation is in order, probably — it's distracting Kiyoomi, more than he would like to admit, and he's sure if he calls Miya out on his blatant staring, he'll stop doing it. Seeing him all flustered at being caught red-handed and called out is just an added bonus.

*** 

It's fairly easy to arrange it so that only the two of them are left in the locker room after practice — all Kiyoomi has to do is dawdle, since Miya is usually the last to leave. Their lockers are next to each other, so when he sees Miya about to leave, he takes a breath, waits until Miya throws out his usual farewell, and says: "Miya." 

"Yeah?" Miya says. The smile on his face contradicts the nervousness his tense muscles seem to radiate. 

Allowing himself to drag it out a little longer, he waits a few moments before saying: "You've been looking." No point in beating around the bush. 

"Kinda have to, 's my job to know where everyone — " 

"No." He shouldn't be enjoying the way Miya is getting tenser with each step Kiyoomi is taking toward him. He stops right before Miya and says, "You've been  _ looking _ ." 

Like a flip has been switched, the nervous energy changes into defiance, Miya's mouth set in a determined line, and Kiyoomi knows exactly what it is that's travelling through him: attraction.

"Yeah?" Miya says, chin jutted out just a little. "So?" 

It's been a while since Kiyoomi's actually wanted anybody, now that he thinks about it, but that's neither here nor there. He needs to discourage this before it escalates, so he opens his mouth to do just that — but looking into Miya's eyes, seeing the complete lack of shame, the way everything about Miya right now screams  _ fuck you _ , makes him say: "Let me know if you want to do more than looking," instead of the intended, "Stop." 

Kiyoomi's mouth falls open as he registers the words he just uttered aloud, because  _ what was he saying _ ; there isn't any way that can be interpreted as anything but a come on, and even if Kiyoomi is  _ attracted  _ to Miya — he's going to have to deal with that later — he certainly isn't looking to  _ do  _ anything about it. Before he can say anything else he doesn't mean, he steps around Miya and walks toward his car, mind starting to whir as he thinks of ways to let Miya know that he hadn't meant that. 

He sets his bag down on the passenger seat before climbing into the driver's seat and takes a deep breath, resisting the urge to rest his forehead against the steering wheel. 

He needs to fix this. 

*** 

Ignoring it is a sort of fix, Kiyoomi rationalizes. If neither of them acknowledge it, it's sure to go away, so he behaves as if he hadn't slipped up the next day, and the day after that, and the day after that. Almost believes it's worked, but then he gets a text: 

_ what would more look like _

The obvious answer is to explain that Kiyoomi meant nothing by that comment, and he's tapped out half of the reply when he stops. 

What  _ would  _ more look like? 

A romantic relationship is out of the question. Even  _ if _ , for some unknowable reason, he were romantically interested in Miya, it isn't something Kiyoomi wants — too much of a hassle. Even having just sex is difficult, since his partners are usually unused to his fastidiousness, his idiosyncrasies.

But. 

Miya already knows about his habits, accommodates them, and they live fairly close to each other. He's obviously interested, too. 

What would more look like? 

He lets himself stew on the question until it's almost the end of the day, pulls out his phone, and texts: 

_ We fuck. No strings.  _

There. Decision made. No taking it back now. 

*** 

The decision needs to be unmade, he realizes the next morning. It's a bad idea. A very bad idea. Bad enough, he might need to turn to the person he can count on for advice: Motoya.

_ I propositioned Miya and he accepted. I  _ _  
_ _ need to take the proposition back without it _ _  
_ _ becoming an issue between us. How do I  _ _  
_ _ do that? _

Not a minute later: 

_ Oh my god?? You can't just spring  _ _  
_ _ something like this one me at 5am!!  _

_ *on _

_ Would 5:30 have been better.  _

_ Don't sass me when you're the one who  _ _  
_ _ needs help  _

_ I'm not seeing much of the 'help' part. _

_ Ugh fine. Just tell him you changed your  _ _  
_ _ mind or found someone else _

_ Wait no don't tell him you found someone  _ _  
_ _ else that might make him feel bad _

_ Just say you changed your mind because  _ _  
_ _ you realized it isn't what you want  _

_ That's why you want to call it off right??  _

_ Wait  _

_ Are you actually into him??  _

_ He's physically attractive and is already  _ _  
_ _ familiar with my habits. It's convenient.  _

_ The problem is that he's Miya. _

_?? Okay then I guess just tell him what I said  _

_ Thanks for the help. _

_ Any time!! Just make it after 7 _

***

It isn't long after that before Miya texts him, asking when they should meet. Thumbs hovering over the keyboard, Kiyoomi stares down at his phone until the screen locks itself. The sentence he needs to type out is easy, simple, but he can't get himself to  _ do it _ . Sighing, he unlocks his phone and types out:  _ I'll let you know. I will come to your place.  _

He'll be damned if he lets Miya step into his apartment,  _ his  _ sanctuary. 

*** 

Miya looks good like this, on his hands and knees, panting, arching — the play of his muscles underneath his skin is mesmerizing. "Oh," he gasps when Kiyoomi pulls out, ties the condom, then reaches down to see if Miya's still hard — he's come once, but Kiyoomi knows he'd started getting hard again while he was being fucked. 

And he  _ is  _ hard, moans when Kiyoomi wraps his hand around his erection, goes easily when Kiyoomi pushes down between his shoulders so he's on his elbows, forehead touching the couch underneath. 

Kiyoomi lubes up his fingers again and inserts two into Miya's hole, and Miya lets out a strangled cry, arching his back. 

"Let's see how long it takes for you to come again," Kiyoomi says, and starts fucking him. 

***

_ I may have not taken your advice. _

_??? What advice?  _

_ OH the thing about Miya?  _

_ Okay well. You're both adults so it  _ _  
_ _ should be fine _

_ Yeah. It should be fine.  _

*** 

Resolute to make sure nothing is awkward or weird between them, Kiyoomi strives to ensure he doesn't behave differently — Motoya's right. They're both adults, they both know what they're getting into, they are both professionals. 

Practice is the same as always — Kiyoomi lets Miya know when his sets are off, tries his best not to look like he wants to shrink away anytime Bokuto almost slings an arm around him, answers Hinata's exclamations of, "Wow, that was great!" with a nod and a quiet, "Thanks." 

Still, he can't stop thinking about it. Keeps replaying last night over and over in his head. Remembers how Miya's hair felt underneath his fingers; how sweat had dripped down his neck; how he'd spread his legs wider. How he'd  _ moaned  _ when Kiyoomi was fucking him. 

_ It's normal _ , Kiyoomi tells himself. 

*** 

"Omi,  _ more _ ," Miya whines as Kiyoomi holds him still, refuses to move his hips even as he desperately,  _ desperately  _ wants to because seeing Miya like this — eyes wide, mouth parted, hair sticking to his forehead;  _ ruined  _ — is exhilarating. 

On a whim, he says, "You know how to ask for things, don't you?" 

He's expecting a snappish  _ fuck you  _ or a snarky remark, but what he gets instead is Miya licking his lips, looking at him, and saying, voice breathy, cheeks flushing redder, "Please, Omi, fuck me." 

_ Fuck _ . He can't control the way his hips jerk involuntarily, driving further in; the way his heart starts beating faster, the way his fingertips clutch Miya's hips tighter. "Okay," he says, trying to pretend he isn't about to snap. Christ, Miya looks  _ good  _ like this. "Since you asked nicely." 

The  _ fuck you  _ he had expected earlier is uttered, and Kiyoomi huffs out a laugh before pulling almost all the way out, then snapping his hips forward. 

Miya throws his head back, one hand clutching his own hair, the other braced up against the armrest. 

*** 

_ How's it going with my favorite cousin??  _ _  
_ _ I'm coming down there, we should grab  _ _  
_ _ dinner some time!!  _

_ I'm fine. How about you? And yeah,dinner  _ _  
_ _ sounds good.  _

_ Doing great!!  _

_ So.  _

_ I knew there was a reason you texted me.  _

_ To ask you how you were doing !!! And  _ _  
_ _ maybe...to ask how things were with Miya??  _

_ They're fine. I haven't killed him yet. _

_ Wow are you two still together??  _

_ We were never together, but yes, we  _ _  
_ _ still have our arrangement  _

_ Wow!! I never thought I'd see the day haha  _ _  
_ _ you always dumped people about a week in  _

_ But it's been what?? Almost a month with  _ _  
_ _ Miya?? Nice growth :)  _

_ Kiyoomi??  _

_ Can't believe you left me on read after I  _ _  
_ _ called you my favorite cousin :(  _

*** 

The thought of texting Miya after what Motoya said makes him far, far too uncomfortable, and he decides he doesn't want to dig further into why. Why it makes him uncomfortable, why he still  _ is  _ seeing Miya, why a part of him wants to continue doing so indefinitely. So he decides he just won't text Miya. 

But he can't stop thinking about it. 

It shouldn't be an issue — it  _ isn't  _ an issue, he keeps telling himself. The reason is probably because it's the most convenient arrangement he's had, and the sex is good. No, not  _ probably _ , it  _ is _ . What more reason does he need? 

That's all there is to it, and he isn't going to let Motoya's words keep that away from him. 

It's been about a week, he realizes as he checks the last text message sent in their conversation. He types out a quick:  _ Today. 7. Does that work?  _

He doesn't have to wait long before he gets the reply:  _ sure _

He locks his phone, slumps back into his couch, and catches himself smiling before he tamps down on it. 

It's convenient. 

*** 

Seeing Miya lying on a bed, spread out and watching Kiyoomi hungrily — it makes him pause for a second. Not obviously enough for anyone who doesn't know him to notice, but pause nonetheless. There's something about the contrast of the dark sheets against Miya's skin, about all the  _ space  _ he has to work with, that makes Kiyoomi swallow. 

He pushes past whatever that  _ something  _ is and walks toward Miya, easily climbing on top, hands by Miya's head and knees right outside his thighs. He looks down, asks, "Comfortable now, Miya?

"As snug as a bug," Miya says with that stupid grin of his, and Kiyoomi suppresses the need to reciprocate it because that way lies trouble. 

"Good," he says, and then leans down because he's afraid he might actually start smiling. Kisses down Miya's neck, says, "Because we might be here a while." 

"I don't mind," he hears Miya breathe, and he rewards that with a quick nip at the junction where neck and shoulder meet. 

Miya arches up into it, a hand shooting out to grab onto Kiyoomi's hair, tugging a little, and Kiyoomi lets out a small gasp, bites down a bit harder when Miya does it again. 

"Oh, do ya like that?" Miya says, and Kiyoomi's answer is to soothe the bite with his tongue before travelling further down, sucking one of Miya's nipples into his mouth. 

When Miya lets out a startled cry, Kiyoomi looks up at him, smirking. "Oh, do you like that?" 

"Asshole." 

"I'm getting there, be patient." 

The laugh Miya lets out makes it impossible for Kiyoomi to  _ not  _ smile, at least a little, so he quickly settles for sucking hickies into Miya's inner thighs, holding his legs open, working them over until Miya is squirming, groaning, "Omi, please,  _ please _ ." 

He's not too proud to admit he has definitely dreamt about Miya's thighs more than once.

"Please, what?" Kiyoomi says after a moment, looking up at Atsumu. 

"Whatever," Miya responds immediately, pupils blown wide, hands gripping the sheets by his side. "Can do anything." 

Kiyoomi's breath catches. 

*** 

_ Happy birthday. _

_ Kiyooim!! You remembrd!!@!!!@!!!! _

_ Are you drunk? _

_ nooooooiiioioooooo I'm happy!!! _

_ Right. Well, enjoy your happiness. _

_ You too have fun :)) _

_ With miya HAHAHAHA _

_ Youve been together long enough your like  _ _  
_ _ dating hahahaha _

_ Kiyoomi whered you go?? _

_ Oh are you having fun HAAHAHA _

_ Bye!! _

*** 

The words eat at him. 

This  _ has  _ been the longest relationship — for lack of a better term — he's had. The problem isn't the length, but the fact that Kiyoomi… isn't getting bored. Isn't getting antsy, or wanting to move on, which is what happened with his partners in college. There was always  _ something  _ that made Kiyoomi leave — an annoying habit that he just couldn't excuse, their thoughtlessness, their inability to understand why Kiyoomi was the way he was; always  _ something _ — and he's shocked to realize that Miya doesn't fit that category. 

In fact, Kiyoomi might even…  _ like  _ his company. Even outside the sex. It's easier to talk to him when he isn't surrounded by others, trying to put on a performance or entertain. He's quieter. More thoughtful. It's a side Kiyoomi doesn't get to see often — really, only before or after sex; maybe at team functions where they end up gravitating toward each other, hiding away in the corner for a bit before Miya's called away — but it's  _ there _ , and Kiyoomi finds himself wanting to uncover it further. Engage more. 

He finds himself wanting to be actual friends, not just teammates who fuck. 

Mouth pursed, he leans back on the couch, setting down the book he was trying to read onto the coffee table. Rests his head on the back, staring at the ceiling, and lets himself absorb that. 

He doesn't know how long he sits there, but he sighs and gets up after a while, walking toward his balcony to inspect the little garden he's set up for himself outside. Sunlight filters through the sliding door and he steps outside, grabbing his gloves and starting to prune his plants, one by one, before noticing the first bloom on his Columbine flower and cupping it in his hand.

***

"Wanna ride you," Miya says, lying underneath Kiyoomi, his hands already making their journey up Kiyoomi's arms, around his neck. 

"Okay," Kiyoomi says after a pause. They've never done that before, but he certainly isn't going to complain. He leans down, but Miya's hand in his hair changes the trajectory of his intended path, and Miya kisses him on the lips. 

Miya kisses like he plays volleyball — with passion, fervor; a certain grace that leaves you breathless in its wake. As if you are his priority, the sole receiver of his intense focus; it's almost intoxicating, and Kiyoomi presses him down further into the bed, allows himself to feel that focus, that intensity; tries his utmost best to return it, fucking his tongue into Miya's mouth the way he knows he likes, tugging at his bottom lip with his teeth. Continues, until Miya is groaning into his mouth, trying to grind up into him, and he moves back only to be pulled in again by Miya's hand in his hair. Allows it to go on for a little while longer before pulling back further because he knows if he doesn't stop now he probably won't stop for a while. 

"Thought you wanted to ride me?" he says, and he can't be blamed for how breathless he sounds. 

"Why? You in a rush?" Miya teases, hand cupping Kiyoomi's jaw, eyes alight with mischief; he wonders if Miya knows how his mouth quirks on the left, just a bit, when he thinks he's being clever or says something that he finds amusing. Not enough to be a smirk or even a conscious movement, probably. "Got a hot date?" 

"Yes." He probably doesn't realize it, Kiyoomi thinks, unless someone else has pointed it out to him. Has someone pointed it out to him? "With my bed." 

There's something else in Miya's expression now, but before Kiyoomi can parse it, Miya's saying, "Sounds sexy," and pulling him back down, kissing him as if he hasn't done so in weeks. Or won't be able to do so  _ for  _ weeks. An errant thought floats through his mind: is Miya always this fervent when he's kissing someone, or are there moments where he slows down, too? Just as quick as it had come, he dismisses the thought as irrelevant. 

When he feels Miya nudging at his chest, he goes easily, lying on his back to watch, eyes traveling up and down his broad back, at the sharp cut of his jaw. Doesn't try to pretend he was doing anything else when Miya turns back, only for him to shake his head. 

"No, want you sitting against the headboard," he says. 

The headboard? "Why?" 

"Saw it in porn, thought it looked hot," Miya says, but he's lying, Kiyoomi can  _ tell  _ he's lying — and since when has he been able to read Miya so well? 

There has to be a reason Miya's lying about such a simple request, maybe something embarrassing, so Kiyoomi doesn't pry further, doesn't tease, and goes with the expected response, scoffing, "Of course," before moving Miya's pillows out of the way — why does he have so many? — and leaning back against the headboard, waiting. 

He doesn't have to wait long before Miya's straddling his lap, tossing the condom to the side and uncapping the lube. Kiyoomi reaches for it, but Miya shakes his head, saying, " 'S okay. I'll open myself up." 

Which is disappointing, because Kiyoomi really enjoys fingering Miya open — watching him go from cocksure and snarky to desperate and panting. 

When Miya reaches behind himself and starts, though, Kiyoomi quickly reevaluates how disappointed he is, because now, he's close enough he catches every expression flitting across Miya's face, can focus on that: his eyes fluttering shut as he bites his lip before releasing it to let out a small gasp; his head tilting back as he swallows, inhaling sharply through his nose; the bead of sweat traveling down his temple, right across the cut of his jaw. 

Miya opens his eyes, looking directly into Kiyoomi's, and Kiyoomi feels his breath catch as all he can think is,  _ Beautiful _ . 

Before he can think too hard about that, Miya's leaning in, kissing him, again and again, moaning into his mouth, as if he has something to prove. It isn't long before he's pulling back, gasping, " 'm — I'm ready, need the condom," wasting no time before putting the condom onto Kiyoomi, slicking him up, and positioning himself on top before sinking down. 

" _ Omi _ ," he whines, and, god, Kiyoomi doesn't think he's ever going to get tired of hearing that when Miya's like this. " _ God _ , Omi." 

Gritting his teeth against the feeling of Miya wrapped around him, he says, "You need to start moving, Miya," not caring about the desperate plea in his voice. 

Miya braces his hands against Kiyoomi's shoulders — Kiyoomi thinks this way, with his hands on Miya's hips and Miya's on his shoulders, they form a closed circuit — and takes some time to get used to the feeling, but it isn't long before he's rising up and slamming back down. 

Fingers flexing against Miya's hips, Kiyoomi leans his head back, groans, " _ Fuck _ ," and goes easily when Miya tugs him forward and kisses him and kisses him and kisses him. 

*** 

_ I have a question, but I'm only going to ask if  _ _  
_ _ you promise not to pry or make fun of me.  _

_ Oooh spill  _

_...I've changed my mind. Thank you, good night.  _

_ Noooo!! Come back!!! I promise  _

_ How do you know if you're interested in  _ _  
_ _ someone romantically and more importantly  _ _  
_ _ how do you stop doing that, immediately. _

_ Oh wow _

_ Not sure how to explain how you know?  _

_ You just kind of do because you want to  _ _  
_ _ do things with them you don't want to do  _ _  
_ _ with anyone else. Date things.  _

_ And in terms of stopping I guess making _ _  
_ _ sure you don't see them very often?  _ _  
_ _ Finding somebody else to like?  _

_ Neither are options.  _

_ Is this about Miya?  _

_ Kiyoomi  _

_ Okay I'm sorry I pried!! Just come back I  _ _  
_ _ won't do it again!! _

***

It can't be romantic attraction. 

Right? 

The thoughts he's been having about Miya have definitely been different from what they were before — it isn't just about fucking him anymore, he  _ wants  _ in a way he never really has. The other day, he saw an ugly beanie and all he could think was,  _ Miya would like that, maybe I should buy it _ . The thought had been so surprising he'd left the store without purchasing what he'd come for. 

And it doesn't stop there: he finds himself wanting to join Miya when he sees him alone on the bench; wants to let Miya slump onto his shoulder when he's so tired he's falling asleep; wants to sit down and have a meal with him, just the two of them, in the apartment, without any need to justify it as a byproduct of another reason. 

Wants to be the one to point out how Miya's mouth quirks on the left, just a bit, when he thinks he's being clever or says something that he finds amusing.

Most of all, though, he wants it to  _ stop _ . 

This is not how it's supposed to go. This is not what's supposed to happen. 

He can't  _ like  _ Miya Atsumu. 

***

They've barely made it onto the bed before Kiyoomi is on top of Miya, pinning his wrists above his bed, and Miya arches his back, bites his lip when he feels no give in Kiyoomi's grip. "You planning on fuckin' me any time this year?" 

While that sounds like fun, what Kiyoomi  _ really  _ wants is to blow him, take his cock into his mouth and see how long he can drag it out before Miya snaps. Raising an eyebrow, he says, "Was thinking of blowing you, instead, but if you don't want that…" 

The fact there's no immediate answer makes him study Miya's expression — he looks unsure, almost a little nervous, won't even meet Kiyoomi's eyes, and that doesn't sit well with him. They've been doing this long enough there shouldn't  _ be  _ any nerves, about anything, so he calls out, "Miya?" 

Something too fast to catch crosses his face, but then he's saying, "Want you to — fuck me." 

The unease is still there, in the way Miya  _ still  _ won't meet his gaze, but it isn't his place to pry. "Okay," he says, trying to keep the concern out of his voice, "I'm not going to complain."

"I'd be offended if ya did," Miya says, and the way he says it — smirking, eyes alight, giving off a sense of 'I know something you don't' — is so familiar compared to the uncharacteristic nervousness earlier, Kiyoomi can help neither the relief that floods him, nor the way he smiles. 

"God, I love you." 

Kiyoomi freezes. 

He can't have heard that right. There's no chance that's what Miya actually said. But one look down at Miya's face, the panic starting to overtake him, makes it clear that Kiyoomi  _ had  _ heard correctly.

Miya loves him. 

He isn't sure  _ what  _ is forming in his chest, but it's making it hard to breathe, making his heart pump faster, making it impossible to  _ move _ . 

No.  _ No _ .

"Fuck, I'm sorry, I didn't — I'm sorry, Omi, I didn't mean that — " Miya is saying, but Kiyoomi can barely hear him because this  _ isn't  _ happening. 

The numbness creeps in, finally, and that's when he lets go of Miya's wrists, leans back. Looks down at Miya and says, "I think I should leave," and the words feel as if they're being formed by someone else's mouth. 

As he moves to get off the bed, Miya shoots up, grabs his wrist, and begs, "Omi, please don't go," and Kiyoomi looks at him — takes in the hurt, the fear, the heartbreak; takes in the tears slowly leaking down the sides of his face, quiet and steady; takes in the fact he looks  _ brittle _ , as if one well-placed word would shatter him, leave him scattered. Takes it all in, but doesn't register it, so he looks down at Miya's grip, then back at his face. 

Miya lets go. 

Kiyoomi quickly pulls on his clothes, grabs his keys, and walks out the door. Down the stairs, into the parking lot, into his car. Drives to his apartment, goes through his bedtime routine, and then gets into bed. 

*** 

Morning doesn't bring any miraculous revelations on how to deal with the situation, but Kiyoomi has time to think about what he's going to do as he gets ready for practice.

The first thing he should probably do is apologize for leaving the way he did, because it was fairly abrupt. 

The second thing he should probably do is let Miya know thanks, but no thanks. 

He arrives at the facility and takes a deep breath. Okay. He's going to confront Miya at the end of the day, and he will set things right. It's easy to zone out as he goes through his pre-practice routine, and he keeps an eye on the doors to the locker room, waiting for Miya to walk in. 

Except he doesn't. 

Everyone else has arrived, is ready to go, but Miya is still absent and Kiyoomi can't call the feeling in his gut anything other than concern. He doesn't know how to ask the question of where he is without drawing attention to himself, but thankfully, he doesn't have to. 

"Coach! Where's Atsumu-san?" Hinata asks when they're gathered around. 

"Called in sick," Coach says, "so we're going to sub in someone else for him today." 

Sick? Miya hadn't looked sick yesterday. There was no way he's sick, so he must have taken the day off due to whatever last night was. 

Guilt wells up inside him, because he's at least partially responsible for the reason Miya isn't here — and knowing Miya's work ethic, he has to be in a pretty bad state to call out. 

Part of Kiyoomi wants to go check on him, make sure he's eaten, make sure he's at least  _ kind  _ of okay, but he knows that wouldn't go over well. So, instead, he quickly pulls out his phone when he can and texts Motoya:  _ Miya told me he loved me. How do I tell him I'm not interested without hurting him and making things awkward?  _ Then, he sets his phone down and focuses on practice, hoping Motoya has a good answer by the time he's done. 

Maybe it's a bit of a blessing that Miya hasn't come to practice today — it gives Kiyoomi time to think, regroup; properly plan out what he wants to say, and with help from Motoya, it might end up acceptable. 

When practice is over, he hurries a little more than usual to be the first one in and the first one out, checking his messages as he walks to his car, reading Motoya's response. 

_ Oh my god?? What????  _

_ What did you say??  _

_ When?  _

_ You have to call me I'm not having _ _  
_ _ this conversation over text. _

_ Okay. I will be free in about an hour. _

Motoya responds immediately: 

_ Perfect me too. I'll call you _

He intends to drive straight to his apartment, but the niggling concern over Miya's state has him drive toward his apartment building instead and park outside, staring up at what he knows is Miya's living room window. 

It's irrational; he can't go in and  _ check _ . The fact that he's even here, sitting in a parking lot, staring up at a  _ window  _ is ridiculous. If he tries to go up and check on Miya, it'll surely send the wrong message, especially considering how he'd left last night.

Frowning down at the steering wheel, Kiyoomi takes a couple seconds to collect himself before backing out of the parking lot. No one makes him feel as off-kilter as Miya does. 

When he gets home, he prepares dinner, checking his phone again and again for a call even though he knows it'll ring when Motoya does call — which it does, just as he's finishing preparing dinner. The way he scrambles to pick it up is undignified, and he's glad no one is here to witness it. 

"Hello," he says. 

"What happened?" Motoya asks, and Kiyoomi sighs, leaning against the kitchen counter as he recounts last night's details. 

"You just… left." Motoya's tone is flat. His tone is almost  _ never  _ flat. 

"Yes. I know. It wasn't my best moment," Kiyoomi says, running a hand down his face. "I just — didn't know what to do." 

"God, Kiyoomi." A heavy pause. "You  _ like  _ him, though. I don't — why are you so against even trying?" 

"I can't," Kiyoomi says. "I can't — do that."

"What? Date?" 

"No." Taking a deep breath, Kiyoomi says, voice small, "I don't know if I can ever love another person in that way."  _ And he deserves someone who can _ .

It's something he's wondered about, for a very large part of his life — he'd never really felt romantically drawn toward another, never understood why his peers did, and he'd come to terms with it.

But Miya's  _ different _ . A weed, taking root inside of Kiyoomi's mind, refusing to quit no matter how many times Kiyoomi tried to pull him out; like ivy, wrapping his tendrils around every part of Kiyoomi, growing unfettered. 

The fact that he actually might be able to love Miya scares the shit out of him. 

"Kiyoomi." The way he's talking — gentle, soft; toeing the line between concerned and pitying — would usually rankle Kiyoomi, but not today. "You haven't even tried." 

"I know," Kiyoomi says after an explosive exhale. "I know." 

"Maybe take the next couple of days to think about it, huh?" 

*** 

The fact that Miya's avoiding even looking in his direction shouldn't be surprising,  _ isn't _ , really, but it still unsettles Kiyoomi. He's putting on a good front, but the team has definitely noticed something is going on between the two of them. Practice without Miya needling him or yelling out friendly insults or laughing loudly just feels  _ wrong _ . 

It doesn't affect their play, though. Both of them are nothing if not professionals; that doesn't stop Hinata from sidling up next to Miya during a small break, no doubt asking about what's going on if the way he's looking at Miya with wide, concerned eyes is to go by. Miya smiles, shakes his head, and dismisses Hinata. 

The next time Kiyoomi goes to grab a sip of water, he barely stops himself from startling when he turns around only to find Hinata looking up at him. 

"...Hinata," he says with a nod. 

"What's going on between you and Atsumu-san?" 

Right to the point; Kiyoomi appreciates that, even if he dreads having to answer. "I understand your concern, but it's between us. If he has made it clear he doesn't want to talk about it, it wouldn't be right for me to tell you."

Cheeks puffing up, Hinata lets out a loud exhale. "Yeah, okay, I  _ guess _ . I'm just worried about him," he mumbles, looking at the floor, before whipping his head up and looking at Kiyoomi with wide eyes. "Not that I'm not worried about you, too, Sakusa-san! I didn't mean it like that, it's just, y'know, with Atsumu-san — " 

"It's alright. I understand," Kiyoomi interrupts. "I need to get back to practice. You probably do, too." 

"Right!" Hinata says, nodding. "Yeah!" 

Kiyoomi looks at him until Hinata leaves, and then glances in Miya's direction. He still isn't looking at Kiyoomi. After having his attention for so long, he feels bereft without it. 

Is this how it's going to be from now on? The thought makes him frown. 

He doesn't want that. 

At the end of practice, Miya offers to clean up and Kiyoomi heads to the locker room. Thinks about what he's decided to say, before realizing that not a single plan he's made has survived contact with Miya. It's unlikely, then, that this one will. 

There's no chance of Miya allowing Kiyoomi near enough to talk, so Kiyoomi waits outside the locker room after he sees Miya go in. Almost feels guilty about the way he's going to ambush Miya, but pushes the guilt aside because it's for a good cause. 

Miya exits the locker room.

"Miya." 

He doesn't turn. Doesn't move. Looks like he's barely breathing, then seems to thaw, jerks as if to keep going. 

"Atsumu," Kiyoomi says; he wonders if Miya can hear the plea underneath the word. 

That gets him to turn around, eyes wide. Kiyoomi hates how well-versed he is in _Miya_ _Atsumu_ , because the confusion, the _hurt_ is easy to read; it's all courtesy of Kiyoomi. 

Kiyoomi tilts his head. Atsumu looks away. 

"Can you come to my place tonight? We need to talk." 

  
  
  
  
  
  


**Author's Note:**

> I'M SORRY THERE ISN'T A RESOLUTION YET i . have no excuse besides i haven't thought about what the conversation would look like tbh n haven't outlined it
> 
> there'll probably at least be a part 3 tho!! 
> 
> come chill w me on [twt](http://twitter.com/shrimpheavnnow)
> 
> thanks for reading!! concrit is always welcome n kudos n comments r always LOVED n appreciated <3333


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